


Day 4: It Keeps Happening!

by thedeadflag



Series: Pezberry Week 2016 [3]
Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen, Assassins & Hitmen, F/F, Fluff and Humor, It Keeps Happening!, Trans Female Character, trans woman Rachel, trans woman Santana
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-23
Updated: 2016-06-23
Packaged: 2018-07-16 18:45:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7280386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedeadflag/pseuds/thedeadflag
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An assassin has been targeting her company and Rachel is handed the contract to take her out. There's something familiar about her rival, though, and she quickly finds her composure and professionalism falling away whenever they're near. She has a job to do, but can she will herself to finish it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Day 4: It Keeps Happening!

“We have a new assignment for you, Operative Berry. The director wants it executed immediately.” Her handler Kurt stated, offering Rachel a sealed dossier before rushing off to his next task. The man was overworked; they all had been lately, with so many of their facilities and key staff having been targets due to a few major hostile takeovers in favor of her employers.

It was, after all, why they had hired her to deal with the dirtier elements of business deals. It’s just that, apparently, other businesses had used a similar approach of their own lately. Not tremendously unusual, but word was that a single assassin had been the cause of most of their troubles lately, and Rachel fully expected to have the assassin’s details in her hand ever since word broke that their mole had finally been able to leak information on their shadowy rival. An organization they only knew as ‘Pyramid’.

Rachel moved to her quarters and sat down on her bed, enjoying the last moment of silence and lack of responsibility before her fingers tore open the seal. She pulled out the four page packet, much lighter than she’d hoped for, but it gave her a decent idea of the assassin’s appearance, and a range of area in a nearby city where the rival operative most likely lives, along with data on height, weight, build, technique.

Not much, but it’d do. The fact that everything pointed towards the assassin being another woman just had Rachel feeling more relieved, knowing her hand to hand prowess was unmatched due to her relentless training and focus on technical precision, and someone with a similar build would therefore be at a disadvantage if they met in close quarters. She was a rising star and arguably the best assassin on the east coast, at the very least.

Rachel scanned the bold red letters at the top of the first page and smiled. ‘Diabla’ would be out of the way soon enough.

* * *

 

“Target lined up...three hundred yards...adjusting for wind...” Santana murmured to herself as she made last second calculations for her vector, knowing her target would be in sight seconds after her distraction set off.

To be honest, the competitive part of her wished her boss would give her more challenging or interesting work than attacking ND Corp. She knew The Coach didn’t have any actual reason for the attacks outside of feeling morally repulsed about the amount of hair product the company’s CEO used on a daily basis. If it had been legitimate business reasons, she could have understood, but it was all petty.

And wasting her precious talents on targets from a petty company, over a petty grudge? Not her style.

But she had her own motives in line with the attacks, and she’d see where her progress went with that eventually. Even if another major contract came up, she’d remain committed to the same goal she’d kept for the past four years. Just didn’t mean the work was enjoyable. And the goodwill from them helping her finish the last of her medical procedures as a signing bonus only provided them so much extra rope.

Still the contracts paid well, and Santana was good at what she did, and she’d already more or less reneged on one of her jobs her boss had handed her, so there wasn’t any real option to turn the new jobs down as they came up. Particularly since nothing better had been on offer for months, and especially since it kept her in her employer’s good graces for as long as she needed to reach her endgame.

She made a promise. Santana Lopez was a lot of things, but she was _not_ an oath breaker.

Santana watched as her target’s mistress approached the security checkpoint and adjusted her sights, knowing her target would have to go to his desk and answer the direct line to let the woman in. So utterly basic, but often the simplest plans were the most elegant.

“At least I’ll be heading home forty grand richer tonight.” Santana mused openly, taking the shot as soon as he hit her crosshairs.

She just managed to watch him fall, red spraying from his skull, when a glimmer of light in her periphery caught her eye. Santana went to ground just as a bullet impacted her shoulder.

She immediately rolled into cover, feeling thankful she’d screened vantage points ahead of time. She’d been sure she had caught some heat after raking through ND Corp’s staff and facilities, so Santana had prioritized locations with escape routes into populated areas, and ones with plenty of cover in case someone tried to take a pot-shot at her.

Her body hurt like hell, but she was still able to lift an arm to check the damage, the bullet having collided with Britt’s protective polymer, not quite penetrating it. It was the first time she’d actually needed it in the field, and couldn’t help but thank her lucky stars that it worked as advertised.

After pulling the strap attached to her gun, dragging it over to swiftly break it down and pack it up, Santana grabbed what she’d left in cover, tossed on her jersey and then her hoodie, and made for the exit.

She’d specifically chosen later in the evening, knowing that the crowd across the street from the hockey game made for a solid exit strategy under pressure. It only took a few moments to hit the sidewalk, merge into the crowd waiting to cross the street, and join the pack heading down into the subway. A few minutes and a discarded hat and hoodie later, and she was on the subway, looking like her excellently attractive self, doing a tiny bit of hair maintenance and reapplying her chapstick. Her shoulder ached like hell, but she could complain or show discomfort when she got home.

After quickly checking for a tail, Santana headed off the subway a stop early and made her way back to street level, just wanting to be a tiny bit more cautious than usual, knowing she’d been shot at and all.

Santana had made it two blocks before realizing she’d made a good decision, spotting someone a ways back picking up a random burner she’d tossed as a potential lure. Britt loved collecting all sorts of dead or broken phones, and she’d often use them as decoys when they were necessary. A good low-budget way to maybe sniff out a tail, and a useful way to keep B’s phone collection under a hundred at any given time.

Knowing she’d been made, Santana felt more curious than anything and took a right where she’d usually take a left, casually strolling two more blocks to an old target’s home she’d paid the bills for and kept up as a personalized safe house in case she ever got burned by her employer. It was cheap and a little dingy, but it was private, had a few tricks installed, and she knew the layout well.

Santana slowed her pace, spending time scratching the ear of a passing dog, and let her tail catch up a bit before heading inside. Even took the stairs, practically screaming for her tail to follow her up to the top.

She made it easy, leaving the door unlocked, turning the lights on. Santana even poured herself a quick glass of wine and stood by the kitchen island, as if celebrating a job gone well. A minute of adjustments and planning, and everything was set.

Her body was buzzing at the possibility of having finally drawn out ND Corp’s top gun. All she had to do was wait and see who showed up.

* * *

 

Rachel wasn’t quite sure what to think. On one hand, she’d wounded her target, she’d seen the woman recoil from impact. On the other, the woman hadn’t seemed fazed at all by it. Rachel had fallen for a ploy while tailing her target, grabbing up a dead burner phone, but on the other hand, her target hadn’t made any attempt to shake her. Her target had practically announced that she knew she was being followed, but also left her door unlocked, and the lights were on, creating conditions that weren’t friendly for an ambush.

It all had Rachel feeling a bit off-kilter and, after a few moments of deliberation, had her feeling she needed to go back to basics. She had a job, she’d get it done, and it didn’t require overthinking it.

Rachel opened the door, swung into cover and, upon seeing her target drinking from a glass of wine, fired off two shots from her pistol.

Her target didn’t flinch as they impacted off of some clear bulletproof substance, finishing her sip before turning her focus, Rachel’s element of surprise utterly wasted. “That’s no way to treat your hostess. And here I was about to offer you a glass of your own. What, red not to your liking, cupcake?”

The dry wit and arrogance grated on her nerves, but it was clear that her target had her at an advantage, at least environmentally. She could back away freely, but her face had been seen, and that posed an issue. Instead, she holstered her gun and approached the kitchen island, spotting the thin clear descending wall aligned just behind it, where her target was standing. “I prefer a rosé.” Rachel stated, running her eyes up and down her target, mouth going dry at the woman’s utter beauty. _No one should be that gorgeous...so unfair, but...but not a problem. She’s still my target, my job...though...I swear I’ve seen her before..._

Her target’s eyes narrowed curiously, swirling her glass. “You’ll have to bring one by, some day.”

“Maybe if you come out from behind your wall, I could have that arranged. Some ask for last dinners...I could have a bottle brought short notice if you’re interested in a last drink.” Rachel countered with a grin in hopes of distracting herself, drawing a laugh from her target.

“Now why would you want to kill little ol’ me?” Her target asked innocently, slipping off her bag and letting it fall to the ground with a dull thud. “The world would be a much uglier place without me, and definitely less interesting. Besides, I don’t think my BFF would be big on the idea, Polly Pocket.”

“I’m _not_ that short. Nonetheless, I’ll admit that you’re a little craftier and resourceful than I expected, but I have a job to do, and I don’t need your friend’s permission, nor do you have an easy escape lined up from what I gathered.” Rachel shot back, lifting her eyebrows in expectation of some sort of concession. When it didn’t come, she couldn’t help but sigh. “Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”

“That's what _she_ said. But really, don’t be so dramatic, short stuff.” Her target complained, frowning into her glass as she grabbed another sip. Rachel could almost appreciate the joke given her personal circumstances, but she wasn't about to admit that.

“Says the woman...one who is barely taller than me, I might add... who invited me into her lair and hides behind bulletproof glass in order to tease and monologue.” Rachel noted, rolling her eyes at her increasingly aggravating person of interest.

“Hey, I haven’t monologued, I wouldn’t try that crap around beautiful ladies, especially gentlewoman callers.” The woman stated firmly, if with that same teasing edge at that last quip, though her expression softened with renewed curiosity shortly after. “If you disarm yourself, I’ll disarm too, and maybe we can just go toe to toe. That gives you a shot at doing your job, and it gives me a chance at finally getting back to my life. Sounds fair to me.”

Rachel squinted at her target’s absurd logic. Still, it was an easy offer to accept. Heck, she’d even be honourable and actually remove all of her weapons, since she knew she could finish this relatively easily. Armor or not, her shot had to have hurt.

It took merely a moment to start disarming, and true to her word, her counterpart stripped down and tossed all of her weaponry into a bin and kicked it across the room. It left the woman wearing an odd black bodysuit, but she didn’t need to pierce her target to finish her.

Once Rachel finished, and kicked her weapons back towards the doorway, she approached the clear wall, smiling to herself when her target pressed a button on a small device, causing it to ascend slowly.

“Gotta say, you’ve got some killer legs, tiny. Sure you don’t want to put them to better use?” Her target taunted, adding onto the pile of taunts and odd compliments the woman had sent her way. While Rachel knew she had nice legs, and it was nice of anyone to notice enough to provide a compliment, it felt strange for it to come from someone she would be killing within a minute or two.

“I’m too dedicated to my job to be seduced, ‘ _Diabla_ ’.” Rachel insisted, drawing a laugh instead of, well just about any other response that she could have expected.

“You come at the queen, you best not miss, mami.” The woman shot back with a wide grin, the words only needing a moment to jolt Rachel’s memory, putting the odd thickness of the air on the backburner in favour of the absurdity of her target.

“Are you _seriously_ quoting The Wire right now?!” Rachel exclaimed in shock as the barrier between them finally ascended enough for her to potentially pass under.

Her target just shrugged and put her glass on the counter before taking two steps back. “What can I say? I reference pop culture. It’s a thing I do.”

Rachel shook her head at another odd twinge of familiarity and walked forward towards her target, pushing aside the strange feeling in the air as she threw out a low kick, the woman exposing her weak shoulder as she checked it. Immediately, Rachel lunged forward, countering a weak-side strike and wrenching at the woman’s wounded shoulder. She had, after all, shot at it with a high caliber rifle.

Truth be told, she didn’t see the elbow coming before it was too late, her target not even flinching under her attack, and using her previous momentum to slam an elbow into Rachel’s jaw.

The attack had her stumbling back, tasting blood in her mouth and feeling a new gap where there used to be a tooth.  “Oh, shit! I was totally aiming for your temple there, I didn’t mean to bloody up your smile, babe.”

Rachel growled and shook off the strange term of affection and the throbbing pain, knowing she could get a dentist appointment soon enough. “Just be quiet!” She yelled, stepping back in and throwing out strike by calculated strike.

Her target was fast and slippery, but Rachel’s speed and precision had the woman on the defensive. It barely took a minute before she was chopping down one of her target’s strikes and finally landing a solid hook to her rival’s face, using the woman’s momentary grimace of pain and lack of focus to follow it up with a push kick that sent her target into a side table, wood shattering on impact.

The woman was able to get to her knees by the time Rachel closed distance, admirably blocking and countering strikes from the vulnerable position, even landing a hard hit to the side of her knee, but it only gave her the opening to launch a knee into her target’s face, tumbling the both of them to the ground as she followed through with a body shot.

Rachel took a moment to improve position, settling into her target’s open guard before sending strike after strike downward, the woman again doing an admirable job at defending herself. When Rachel mixed in an elbow, her target’s guard broke open, and she couldn’t help but posture up for a hard enough attack to finish it.

She lifted her arm, stunning the downed woman momentarily with a short strike by her off-hand before slamming down with an elbow. An elbow that was sent a hair off course by the woman bucking slightly underneath her. Before she could react, a hand was pulling at her arm, legs riding up to wrap around her hips and pull her down, bringing her face to face with her target.

Suddenly, soft lips were upon hers and forcing a blooming arousal through her body. She felt a leg grazing lightly across her ass, a gentle weight of an arm hesitantly flung behind her neck, a hand caressing a soft cheek. _Wait a minute..._ Rachel wondered hazily. _That...that’s...that’s MY hand!_

Her momentary shock was shattered by the woman’s lips leaving her own, peppering soft kisses across her jaw, a hand undoing her bun and sweeping through her tresses in one swift motion. A part of her knew that this was her target, her _job_ , but dang if she didn’t love having her hair played with. Dang if she didn’t enjoy when partners trailed kisses and teasing nips down her neck, as the woman beneath her was all too happy to do.

“What...what are you...” Rachel let out in a haze, overcome by confusion and a distinct need to hold onto this pleasure, which easily warred with the knowledge that she really did have a job to do.  Sure, there hadn’t been a deadline, so maybe she ran that hand across her target’s cheek, caressing that lovely high cheekbone once more.

“Mmm?” The woman beneath her let out warmly, pressing one last kiss to her neck before flopping back onto the ground, leaving a good chunk of distance between them. “Hey, _you_ kissed _me_ , mami. And...and fuck, I’m not complaining, because _damn_...”

“Oh my god...” Rachel let out in a groan, because as much as the concept of her kissing her target was absolutely absurd, it really had all just been a blur. One moment, she was falling downward towards the woman in a failed attack. The next, they were kissing, and she was caressing her target’s cheek. None of it made a lick of sense, even if the woman’s lips were like the holy grail of lips, and all she wanted was to indulge herself and drink from them again and again.

“I mean, I can tell that you have a particular set of skills. Skills you’ve acquired over a very intense career. Skills that make you a goddamn dream for someone like me. If you come back down here and kiss me again, that’ll...” Her target started, Rachel needing a moment to fight through the haze to realize the woman was at it again.

“Oh my Barbra, stop quoting Taken! This is serious!” Rachel yelled, drawing an honest to god giggle from the woman beneath her.

“Did you really just say ‘oh my Barbra’? Still? Just admit it...you’re like me...and maybe you like me, too...” The woman demanded with a teasing grin, and all Rachel could think to do was shake her head, not seeing at all how they were similar, or how her target could get the impression that she liked her. “Come on, you’re not gonna leave me hanging with those sweet lady kisses of yours, are you?”

Rachel realized with a flash of logic that it was exactly what she had to do, even if the phrase ‘sweet lady kisses’ had her mind traveling to a hazy area of her brain for a half second. A glance down at her target had her feeling far more excited and aroused than determined, especially with the odd glimmer of hope and yearning in her target's eyes, and with her willpower compromised, all she could do was leave the woman hanging.

Quickly as she could, Rachel got to her feet and stepped away from the prone woman whose dark eyes followed her with curiosity and disappointment more than anything. “This isn’t over.” Rachel declared, hoping to assert some level of authority and threat, but all she earned with her words was a hopeful smile.

“I sure hope not, mi querida.” The woman shot back with a grin. “Maybe next time, you won’t have to go through so much trouble to get to me. Name’s Santana, by the way...”

Rachel felt herself blushing at the remark, not at all pleased about how she was physically responding to the woman’s compliments. Still, her rival assassin had offered up a name, one that tickled heavily at the edges of her mind, though that was probably just the arousal speaking, her voice so alluring. It was only honourable to follow suit with her own name. “Rachel. Until next time.”

With that, she marched off towards the exit, her heart not pounding at all as the woman called after her again. “Gimme notice next time and I’ll make sure to set the mood. Maybe some rose petals, a bottle of rosé, a king-sized bed...and maybe you're wearing something that's not fueled by the deep, dark Evangelion-based fetish of some creepy Japanese businessman?”

“Goodnight, Santana!” Rachel yelled out, more to interrupt the woman than anything else. She’d never felt so embarrassed on the job before. She’d never been so unprofessional.

Whatever Santana had done to her, she’d find out, and it would not get in her way next time.

* * *

 

 Rachel was determined to get it right this time. No distractions, no mistakes, no excuses.

Santana had been a ghost since that night, but her work had continued, and Rachel felt more than a little pressure from up top to finish her job. Thankfully, she’d been able to track her target yet again, fresh off of another job. This time, she’d retain the upper hand, without any manipulation from her rival. She wouldn't be drugged by her foe again; no, they'd be out in the open air this time.

Rachel stalked from rooftop to rooftop, feeling a rush of excitement when her target stepped into an alleyway. Enabling Tina’s patented ‘skyfall’ device, Rachel leapt off the rooftop, plummeting a half dozen stories into the alleyway, launching her feet directly into her target’s chest just as the device slowed her fall.

She rolled through her landing and propelled herself forward, landing a knee to her target’s chest and a downward elbow to the woman’s neck before grabbing hold of her and tossing her against the wall. It would have been so easy to finish it, but her pride demanded an explanation, so instead of collapsing Santana’s throat, she simply applied pressure and held her target against the wall.

“You’re going to tell me exactly what you drugged me with last week, and you’re going to apologize.” Rachel grit out, relieving pressure a little when Santana just coughed up blood.

“Ugh, get...get the stick out of your pert little ass, Streisand. I flooded the loft with a mix of chemicals meant to take my mind off of my partially fractured shoulder. Just...just made me feel alright, less pain...” Santana choked out, before shooting her a tired grin. “No shame in succumbing to my sexual magnetism, babe.”

Rachel processed the woman’s words, and honestly, it made sense, even if the nickname felt annoyingly familiar. Her handler had set up a room in a safe house once upon a time that could push something similar through its ventilation system after she’d been injured badly on the job. Kept a steady, low dose of painkillers without restricting movement.

“Urgh, don’t...I don’t care about your _sexual magnetism_. It’s my job to _kill_ you.” Rachel grit out, applying a little more pressure, leaning in to hopefully intimidate the woman and regain a semblance of respect.

“You know what they say...keep your friends close, and your enemies closer...” Santana whispered, wetting her supple lips with a pink tongue. “...really close... _‘push them up against the wall and take them’_ close...”

Rachel shook with anger at her target once again twisting her actions and intentions, not to mention spurring some dangerous levels of arousal through her veins. It wasn’t right! “I am a half second from killing you! Take your life seriously for once or...or...!”

“Or what? You’ll fight me about it?” Santana asked, thankfully not looking entirely cocky or teasing for once, a little bit of nerves breaking through her mask.

“Yes! I will defeat you, and then I’ll kill you and complete my job!” Rachel insisted, drawing the most minute of nods from her rival.

“Tongue wrestling then, to the death.” Santana insisted in return, drawing a firm nod from Rachel before she caught up and realized exactly what the woman had said, igniting her entire body with excitement.

“Tongue...wrestling?” Rachel asked breathlessly, easing up a little on the pressure her forearm was placing on the woman’s throat, worrying it was cutting off too much oxygen to her brain, needing to know exactly what Santana had said.

“WRESTLING. Wrestling. I said _wrestling_ , god! What, are you deaf? Mind out of the gutter, tiny.” Santana blurted out almost nervously, almost as if she, too, was affected in some way by Rachel. That she, too, was excited.

Which, well, was an interesting change of fortune.

“Firstly, that's ableist. Secondly...you want to wrestle? Then let’s wrestle.” Rachel mused openly with a brilliant grin, quickly switching grips and using all the leverage she could to snap out a suplex, flinging Santana onto the hard asphalt behind them.

To her credit, Santana was up to her feet almost immediately and her first step was like lightning, stepping into Rachel’s space and angling her body to avoid a grapple while grabbing the diva's arm firmly. A half second later, Rachel was on her back and gasping for breath, body aching.

Excited by the challenge and not wanting to let her target get away, she kicked out her feet to sweep the woman. Rachel rose up as Santana fell to roll on top of her target’s newly downed body, hands grabbing at the neckline of the woman’s top as Santana let out a pained moan.

A moan she swallowed with her mouth, body vibrating with energy and need, hand caressing the downed woman’s face again as her other hand trailed down Santana’s body and dipped under her top to graze against firm abs. Santana’s head angled up into her kiss, those pillowy lips so luscious and soft, intoxicating her senses and drawing her deeper into embrace, Rachel not at all minding the limbs suddenly wrapping around her, not minding that they were in a dark, dank alleyway in the middle of the night.

Their pace started slow, but quickly ramped up into a frenzy, Rachel purring as a hand combed through her hair, nails lightly grazing her scalp. Her hands explored her prey, one measuring Santana’s rapid pulse while the other patiently tweaked and tugged at the woman’s nipples, her mouth devouring kisses and moans and whimpers alike with insatiable greed.

It was the sensation of Santana’s hips bucking up and against her left thigh that startled Rachel out of her lust, staring wide-eyed down at her quarry, lips kiss-swollen and dark eyes yearning for more, raven hair splayed out like a dark halo.

“Why does this keep happening?” She wondered openly, breathless herself as her lungs fought for oxygen.

Santana’s eyes fluttered closed as the woman’s breathing evened out. “She hit me...and it felt like a kiss...” The woman sang, and damn it if Santana didn’t have one of the most alluring voices she’d ever heard; it was all smooth and smoky, and oddly sweet, but strangely familiar. “But seriously, mi querida...like I said last time, I’m not complaining. I could do this all night long.”

“I fractured your shoulder, and thoroughly beat you up. You’re not complaining?” Rachel asked in sheer disbelief, especially since Santana winced as the woman repositioned herself under her.

“You’ve got an open invitation to kiss it all better.” Santana noted with a pout, tugging lightly at Rachel’s top. “Don’t know why you had to have this out here when I have a fine-ass bed back home. Would’ve made wrestling a little easier on our backs.”

Rachel let out a huff, not at all happy that she’d fallen into unprofessionalism twice straight, especially given how much her body, and a good chunk of her mind, wanted to dive right back in.

Kurt would not appreciate her being compromised. If she lost out on this job, she could lose her rising star status. _No, I need to get this job done...I just...I just can’t kill her tonight...not like this..._

“Feel fortunate I’m letting you go, Santana. Next time, you won’t be so lucky.” Rachel asserted as she got up to her feet again.

Santana, of course, just stretched out beneath her, letting out a seductive hum. “You really should stop talking about getting lucky. It’s not fair to tease me, especially when you’re always starting the fire, tiny.”

Rachel could feel how red her face was, but it didn’t matter. None of it mattered. As she rushed off into the night, she knew that somehow, Santana had gotten her off of her game for the second straight time. She needed to find a way to avoid it from happening again.

In the meanwhile, maybe a little muffing was in order to get her back to her usual baseline. She'd need a clear head and a spent libido the next time she approached her target.

* * *

 

Rachel was tired. She’d caught wind of Santana’s position midway through the day and had spent all day long tracking her movements. The woman was on the move non-stop, often going back and forth between various shady storefronts & dead-drops and what was clearly a target’s home, given she caught Santana sneaking into the building again and again. The building’s owner? A CFO from one of ND Corp’s subsidiaries.

When Santana left the home yet again, Rachel felt it’d be a good opportunity to break in and hide herself, to both prevent Santana from completing another job, and to finally finish the job she’d been given two weeks ago.

It was a perfect plan. Rachel had insisted on using her silenced pistol instead of hand to hand, which she’d determined was the root of her problems with Santana. She needed distance, and could more easily kill at a distance.

It was perfect.

Rachel chose a different entrance than Santana’s, taking a while to fully scan the area and any security measures before taking the front entrance. It took a few minutes to contort herself and sneak past the rival assassin’s set-up, but it proved worth the effort, knowing the woman hadn’t investigated the area any of the times since setting her systems up earlier in the day.

Carefully as she could, Rachel crept into the home, attaching a device to the home security system. Her scanner, after a minute or two of effort, offered no alerts to any active cameras or safeguards in the home, so she made her way past the foyer and into the dimly lit dining room.

Her body froze upon spotting the covered dishes on the dining table alongside two place settings across from each other. The owner of the building hadn’t been back to it since some time before Rachel began keeping tabs around noon. It was hours later, at least, so there was no way he’d arranged the meal, it had to have been Santana.

 _Is she...undercover? Having a romantic night with the CFO? She does have a reputation of being dynamic, I wouldn’t put it past her, and it could explain why she hasn’t been back to her place more than twice since we fought there. If so, definitely need to sabotage it...I can’t let her succeed again under my nose..._ Rachel decided, nodding to herself as she made her way further into the home, her watchful eyes picking up a bit of red off to her left in the living room. _That’s...strange..._

Rachel stepped closer to the living room, taking care to walk on the rug-covered portions when she could, though she may have lost focus upon realizing there was a trail of rose petals leading up the stairwell. She stared up at the second floor balcony area overlooking the living room and shook her head at the lengths Santana had gone to.

 _All the better to ensure she’s not here when he gets back. Confuse and break his heart, and maybe he’ll be less prone to making a mistake like this again..._ Rachel mused to herself as she carefully made her way upstairs.

The sound of Norah Jones met her ears, and Rachel couldn’t help but appreciate the mood music. If anything, in addition to Santana’s voice, her taste was seemingly rather on point. Or, she was at least tactical. Rachel followed the music to a doorway that was just barely ajar, dim light glowing from the crack under the door. With a roll of her eyes, Rachel pushed the door open.

“I was wondering when you’d join me, mi querida.” The sound of her target’s smooth voice had Rachel nearly jumping out of her skin, eyes darting to the bed where this time her eyes did their own athletics at the sight of Santana decked out in a set of lilac lingerie that literally had her mouth watering and eyes bulging out of their sockets by the devilish way each piece played with translucency.

Truthfully, she’d taken multiple steps towards the bed before she even half-way processed what the woman had said. “Join you?”

“I spotted your beak early afternoon, so I waited around inside for a while, waiting for you to march in and foot stomp the hell out of the hardwood, insisting you’ll be ending my life today for good. When you didn’t show, I made a trip to grab some things, and then another trip, and another. Not polite to keep a lady waiting, you know.” Santana rambled, watchful eyes sweeping over her before cocking a questioning eyebrow her way.  “So what’s it gonna be, tiny?”

Between the woman’s blatant ogling and the lengthy spiel, Rachel had just enough time to get her mental faculties in check and reaffirm her determination, even if she did have some questions. “You’re not going to kill the CFO. Not on my watch.”

“I’d hope not. He’s over in Macau for the next six weeks, and let me tell you, they don’t let you do _anything_ fun during that long of a flight.  And there’s usually some customs dude who’s, like, a hybrid of Ted Bundy and Paul Blart, and that’s just... _disgusting_. Hell no, I’m not killing him. I’m borrowing his home for a while. Turns out banks don't really trust that people in our line of work will be around long enough to pay off our mortgages, and I was getting sick of rentals. Don't worry, I'll leave him some coin for the trouble and damages when I leave. Apparently, he gambled all his money away, so it's a win-win.” Santana went off, sounding like her usual confident and teasing self, if not for Rachel noticing how the woman’s hands were ever so slightly wringing the sheets, a sign of nerves.

“You realize I came here to kill you, not sleep with you.” Rachel declared flatly, drawing a sigh from the other woman, who reached down to the far bedside and pulled up a bottle of wine. A particular brand she favoured, even.

“Not even willing to share a drink of rosé with me? Gotta say, I picked you as a romantic, and I’m feeling kind of disappointed. No me gusta.” Santana noted critically with a theatrical pout, the contrast making Rachel laugh, given all her friends really did feel she was a hopeless romantic and a theatrical, overdramatic diva. Santana really had pegged her properly; it was her job that was in the way.

“I apologize, but I won’t let myself be close to you.” Rachel insisted, placing a hand on her pistol for a bit of emphasis, earning a slow nod from the woman.

 Santana let out an annoyed sigh, dark eyes rolling hard as she got off the bed and to her feet. “Guess the lingerie's a bust, then. Mind if I slip into something more comfortable?”

Feeling confident, Rachel gestured towards the ensuite, prompting the woman to sashay off towards it, only hesitating at the door with a teasing glance over her shoulder before disappearing inside.

And so she waited, which wasn’t exactly her strong suit. When a minute passed without much sound, she allowed some unvoiced questions bubble to the surface. “What was for dinner?”

“Hrm?” She heard from the ensuite, a clear sign she had the woman’s attention.

“What did you make for dinner?” Rachel repeated, her words followed by the slight rustling of fabric.

“Vegan lasagna...my great aunt’s recipe...and then some of my favourite salads that I thought complemented the main course.” Santana piped up from the other room, followed by a low grunt. “You’re not the only one doing surveillance, Berry.”

Rachel blushed at the effort, knowing her veganism was tremendously important to her, and most dates in the past had only ever been willing to bend to vegetarian. The woman knowing her last name, her real one that had been wiped off of every database in the country, was just impressive. She’d failed to find Santana’s, only coming across a variety of fake aliases instead, but never a Santana that matched.

“Well...I appreciate the thought, Santana. Had it been your last meal, I’m certain you would have enjoyed it.” Rachel let out in a bit of a stumble, unsure how exactly to proceed when Santana was chipping away at her composure again. In the past, it’d been purely physical, but even mere words and actions were impairing her judgment now.

It was the clacking of fingernails against wood that brought Rachel’s attention back to the entrance of the ensuite, the vision of her target once again stealing all the oxygen in her lungs. “Oh my Barbra, is that...is that...”

“X-62 polyweave low-profile body armor? Hells yes it is!” Santana finished her sentence excitedly, offering her a teasing smirk before doing a slow twirl to give her a three-sixty degree look.

The whole suit seemed to be one piece, made of the same material that had blocked her sniper round weeks ago, just spread across her body. It was both practical and utterly beautiful, and it had Rachel excited at the mere notion of maybe getting one of her own in the future. What was eye-boggling, and perhaps mind-boggling, was how relatively unprotected certain areas of the suit seemed to be. “But...not that I was staring, as I was certainly not, but your...derriere...”

“I told Britt if I’m going to wear shit that doesn’t let my skin breathe, and basically lets me pass off as some mid-scale dominatrix, she’d better make my ass look amazing.” Santana interjected, though her words were more than clarifying. And really, that suit did wonderful things for her behind in terms of lift.

“It’s just they, and your...chest region...seem to have less layers of protection. Not exactly efficient.” Rachel argued weakly, forcing her eyes away from Santana’s well defined assets after her gaze became fixated on them a little too long.

“Please. It can stop a bullet. Besides, like you’re one to talk...whoever made your suit was probably some anime nerd who’d watched too much Evangelion and had a _dark, specific fetish_.” Santana shot back, and all Rachel could do was scoff in reaction, unsure at all what to say. She liked her bodysuits. “I’m just saying, they make you look like a child, all curveless, and you’re clearly not.”

“I do not...I...well, your bodysuit probably isn’t supportive enough to keep running from hurting.” Rachel countered with a grin, feeling a little proud of her comeback.

“No pain, no gain, I’m a fan of aesthetics. I look good enough to eat, don't deny it, I saw you drooling. Doesn’t mean I can’t attach a knife to my underboob or hide a garrotte in my ass.” Santana said as she widened her stance and crossed her arms, clearly a defensive response. It felt a little exciting to be able to prompt that in the rival assassin.

Still, she couldn’t help but take in the sight of the woman in the skin-tight bodysuit, spotting hidden pockets all over it, and perhaps getting a third or fourth glance at the woman’s cleavage through the transparent layer covering it. “Well...you do have ample resources at your disposal, it seems.”

At least somewhat consoled by her response, Santana crossed the room and plopped back down onto the bed, grabbing a clipboard from the nightstand. “So...how’s this going to go down? The whole killing me thing.”

Rachel felt a little sheepish in the return of discussion to her initial plan. She hadn’t meant to deviate so far. “Well, I planned to shoot you. There aren’t neighbours around, but I prefer a silencer nonetheless.”

“And now that I’m effectively bullet-proof?” Santana asked rapidly, though her voice remained calm and smooth as usual.

Honestly, it was only then that the implications of the body armor kicked in. “Oh, I...hrm.” Rachel stammered out, though she was agile enough to catch the clipboard Santana tossed her way. She was also mentally focused enough to feel a little surprised when she saw a dossier on herself. “You were assigned to kill me as well? I’d think it was about time, really, and that...wait...”

Rachel peered extra hard at the timestamp at the top right corner of the file, taking time to skim to the other files to be certain the date shown was accurate.

“My boss is sort of a fire-breathing Aryan woman, and told me I had to ‘ _kill the keebler elf or you’re back to the bottom of the pyramid’_.” Santana relayed, voice taking on a lower, scratchier tone for the impersonation.

“This is marked _two months_ ago.” Rachel stated out of pure wonder, unsure how the woman was getting other contracts if she hadn’t completed hers.

“Didn’t feel like it. Number one, you’re a good assassin, and I can respect that. Number two, while you annoy me ninety percent of the time, you’re the only exciting thing in my life...which is utterly pathetic, but whatever. And three, there aren’t a lot of good kissers in the world...too many who just fish-mouth each other, or use enough tongue to strangle someone, or who are basically cannibals with how much they bite. You’re basically an endangered species.” Santana rambled tiredly, flopping onto her back.

The fact that the prone woman was entirely vulnerable to attack didn’t cross her mind at all. The fact that she was a good kisser couldn’t have been why Santana hadn’t killed her weeks and weeks ago, since they hadn’t kissed that far back. But it was the woman giving that ‘ninety percent’ line that had her mind burning for some reason, letting her think that maybe there was another reason or two left unspoken. “So what...you just told your boss to...to stick it?”

“More I’m looking for an exit, biding my time. I’m bigger and better than Pyramid. All the money and fame’s in the free market as a solo act.” Santana spoke quietly, taking a moment to stretch and rub her wounded shoulder.

“Why are you telling me this? Why lure me to you so many times?” Rachel needed to know the truth, because her brain was quickly frying and she needed some sort of anchor to steady herself.

“Maybe I think you’re better than ND Corp. Maybe we could team up and be a force. Maybe I'm keeping a promise. Whatever.” The woman stated tiredly, before leaning back on her elbows, dark eyes staring into her own. “Look, if you really think the third time’s a charm, and have to go for it, I won’t blame you. You’re professional, always have been. But you have options.”

Rachel’s brow furrowed at the notion, knowing she was most certainly in a long term contract with her employer. Quitting could bring an undesirable level of heat onto her, let alone the damage it could cause her reputation. On top of that, being an assassin without access to equipment would likely be disastrous, and would cut her off from the most prestigious jobs.

Unsure what other option she had but to do what she was tasked with, Rachel let out a sigh and pulled out her pistol.

The immediate sensation of thousands of volts of electricity coursing through her body was both new and overwhelming, tensing every spare muscle in her body as she shook. Eyes rolling back, she could barely concentrate enough even after the shock halted to notice any movement, but the violent two strikes to her body punctuated the fact that, somewhere along the way, Santana had gained the upper hand.

It was the sensation of being pulled, thrown, and breaking through wood, followed by flying through the air far too long to be safe, that had her wondering if that would be her end. Thwarted by a target who had met her in a bedroom, decked out in lingerie, effectively offering her work and a nice evening together.

Rachel did what she could to brace her pained and exhausted body for impact, knowing hardwood flooring provided zero cushion. She hoped it’d be a quick death.

So when her body bounced off of a cushioned surface, descending back down again into the soft surface and a plethora of pillows, she could hardly believe her luck, even if the happy surprise had her lungs gasping for air from the shock.

Her hands blindly reached out, exploring the thing she’d fallen on, feeling cool, smooth sheets. Oversized pillows of the same material. Her head was pounding, so she forgave herself for not hearing Santana following her down, noticing the woman at her side when she was finally able to open her eyes.

“I told you...much easier on our backs if we wrestled on a bed.” Santana mused softly without a hint of teasing, gently brushing hair away from Rachel’s face, as if she hadn’t just thrown her from the second story balcony above the living room. Though, Rachel could admit that perhaps she did deserve it, pulling a gun on her and trying to kill her numerous times. She blearily watched her target gaze off towards the kitchen.”Thanks Britt, I think I can take it from here. Have a good night...and stay safe, okay?”

Rachel heard some sort of response, but her focus was shot, and it came off as a fog of vague noise resembling a voice. She was so tired. “Hey, look, you’re pretty wiped, so here’s the deal...you rest up. You can leave and come at me again another time, if you want...or you can come upstairs to see me, and maybe we can work something out. Either way, feel free to eat, you’re probably going to be hungry when you wake.”

Rachel turned her head to fully face Santana, not understanding at all why the woman was so hell bent on not defending herself properly, not ending her. She managed to slowly rest a hand atop the one Santana had planted on the mattress near her head before she lost the energy to keep her eyes open.

Just as she was drifting off, she heard the strangest thing, Santana’s voice keeping her awake just long enough to process. “I promised I’d find you. It’s your turn, now...come back to me, you ridiculous diva. You promised.”

Unsure what that meant, let alone the tearful tone in the rival assassin’s voice, Rachel decided to sleep on it.

* * *

 

Rachel awoke to a full body ache. Predictable, as memories of the past few hours came back to her, but still very much unpleasant. Her stomach rumbling only made her situation worse, but after listening for any noise, Rachel willed herself upright and got off the bed, staggering over to the dining table.

She wasn’t expecting much, certainly not for the steel coverings of the food to be pleasantly hot still, after so long. Rachel lifted the largest of the covers and felt her mouth watering and stomach roaring at the sight of a gooey, delicious looking lasagna. Unashamed at her hunger and urgency, she grabbed the knife and spatula nearby and cut herself off a healthy slab of it, setting it down onto her plate before uncovering the salads and grabbing from the vegan one, leaving the salad with bits of chicken for her host. As was polite, she covered everything up again before diving in.

It really was glorious, and it tasted oddly familiar. Rachel could have sworn she’d had it before, many times even, but she couldn’t quite place when or where. She was midway through her meal when she spotted a tiny speaker system in the middle of the table. Curious, she fiddled with it until she could find a press the play button.

Whitney Houston’s ‘So Emotional’ started up, and all Rachel could do was smile, not having heard the song in ages. However, as the track progressed, she felt a tingle at the back of her head, and could imagine her voice singing along to the song. _My voice, and...and...Santana’s?_

A wave of dizziness took over, and Rachel just gripped the arms of her chair and held on, waiting for the disorientation to pass. When she closed her eyes, though, she got a flash of a dimly lit room with two bunks. A bag rested on the top bunk covered in star patches, the bottom bunk sporting a small mirror on the wall. Suddenly, she could see down at the room, as if she was perched on the top bunk, and Santana was entering, dragging two heavy and visibly full backpacks. The woman looked up to her, shooting her a brief glare before it broke into a reluctant grin and a shake of the head. “Not your pack mule, Streisand.” She recalled the woman saying with a huff before staggering to the bottom bunk and flopping down onto it. “Sweet dreams, mi querida. Got a long mission ahead of us tomorrow.”

Rachel’s eyes shot open, waves and waves of memories rushing at her, as if they’d been trapped behind a levee and were finally free to roar across the expanse of her mind. Growing up together. A brief high school rivalry before fostering a secure friendship together. Heading to school together, joining what they thought was the CIA together, being paired together as a team, taking missions together.

Realizing they’d been operating in a privately run international terrorist’s conglomerate together. Trying to break out and get free together. Sacrificing herself for Santana, and Santana promising to come back for her. Rachel promising to remember.

She dropped her fork, the utensil still impaling a piece of lasagna, and rushed out of the dining room and through the living room, her body halting at the stairs.

 _I attacked her...god, I...I SHOT her, and assaulted her, and...and almost killed her! I was going to kill her!_ Rachel raged with grief, unsure how her former best friend could stand to look at her. Halfway brainwashed or not, violent assaults left wounds, and not just physical ones.

Cautiously, Rachel crept upstairs, stilling outside the bedroom door that was once again cracked open. As if Santana had nothing to fear. Rachel shook her head, wiped away her budding tears, and tiptoed inside. The music was still playing at a lower volume, and all that was lit was the fireplace off in the corner, bringing Rachel’s eyes quickly to the lump in the bed.

She approached her friend as if the woman was a ghost that could dissipate into the void at any wrong movement. She was at the bedside when she realized Santana had changed back out of her body armor, which only had Rachel’s throat tightening at the sheer trust shown. The woman was fast asleep, wearing nothing that was the least bit protective, despite having had a trained killer make an attempt on her life earlier.

_Did she...was she ready to give up if I didn't remember? Did I mean that much to her? Because she's so vulnerable like that. If I hadn't remembered...oh god..._

Carefully as she could, Rachel unzipped her own bodysuit, shimmying out of it in about a minute’s time, before heading to the ensuite. She truly didn’t have the patience for a shower, but she remembered how Santana hated when she’d cuddle up to her all grimy and sweaty. The least she could do was rinse off, and so she reluctantly did, skin burning and mind buzzing as she furiously cleaned herself off in record time.

She could hardly leave the shower fast enough, not even bothering to wrap herself up in one of the nearby fluffy robes, only taking the time to hastily dry off before padding back to the bed. As carefully as she could, Rachel slipped under the covers and shuffled closer to her old friend.

Her oldest friend. Her best friend forever. The girl, now woman, she’d once had a longstanding crush on. A crush she hadn’t been willing to act on until her subconscious finally had the chance to weeks ago, pressed up against a downed Santana.

Santana, who was perpetually a hundred percent annoyed with everyone in the world, but managed to find ten percent in Rachel to love and protect. Santana, who hadn’t given up on her.

“Tana?” She let out in a squeak, fingers hesitantly curling against her sleeping friend’s shoulder and giving a light shake. The woman had always been a light sleeper, so it wasn’t a surprise when Santana grumbled, brow furrowing as she lazily swatted at Rachel’s hand.

“G’way...nd muh 'eauty sleep...” The woman retorted in a sleepy mumble, slumber stealing away half or more of the syllables, though Rachel knew exactly what was said.

“You need beauty sleep like I need vocal lessons, Tana.” Rachel stated, recalling she’d often say that when Santana would complain about getting up early for training.

Immediately, Santana’s eyes shot open, bleary but shining with hope, all the hard edges falling away for a soft look of wonder. “Rachel?” Her name escaped the woman in a quiet, pained cry, and all she could do was pull her friend into her arms and hold on, having finally found her anchor again.

“I promised I’d come back to you. I’m...I’m sorry I...” Rachel started tearfully, her voice dying in her throat as Santana’s hand lifted to run through her hair, as wet tears met her neck.

“Don’t, okay? For once in your life, shut up. You don’t have to say anything.” Santana asserted, voice all wet and thick, but no less insistent.

Rachel enjoyed the unconditional acceptance, the forgiveness, the pure comfort of being in her best friend’s arms again. Still, she’d never been one to stay quiet when she had something to say. Today was no different. “I do, though.”

“You don’t have to apologize, or shit. I knew what I had to do. I did it. You're back. We're good.” Santana stated, voice almost pleading, and Rachel just couldn’t let her friend draw whatever sad conclusions she was making in her mind.

“Not that. I...I know why it kept happening.” Rachel added, prompting Santana to lean back enough to get face to face, curious and fearful eyes searching for some sort of clarity. “You know...IT. _Us_. Kissing you.”

Santana’s mouth formed a perfect O in realization, but the woman looked no less concerned. “And? Spit it out, mi querida, I’m missing beauty sleep, here.”

Rachel shook her head at her friend’s bluntly transparent diversion tactics to steer her away from recognizing Santana was scared and insecure. And really, she wanted Santana to know she wouldn’t have to be scared anymore. Not with her.

“I was scared...so scared, for years, of slipping up. After all, it started when you and I had just finished our rivalry in high school, and I didn’t want you to think how I felt was because of relief, or because you weren’t hurting me anymore. That I had some sort of Stockholm syndrome.” Rachel began, though a quick look at Santana’s confused, pleading eyes had her fast-tracking, knowing her friend was one of the least patient people in the world. “Anyway, time passed, and my feelings grew. And...I loved you...not just as a friend. I wanted to kiss you, but...I was always too scared to ruin what we had. But...but after everything that was done to me and my memories...I didn’t have that fear. But I did have that...that attraction, that draw to you, those urges...”

Santana blinked once, twice, before cracking the tiniest, shyest smile she could recall seeing on her friend’s face. “You saying your urge to have a mack session with me survived some of the most intense brainwashing methods on the planet?” San let out, falling into a brief giggle fit as Rachel pouted over how casually her friend was taking her confession. “I told you my sexual magnetism reeled you in!”

“Oh shut up, I’m trying to be romantic!” Rachel complained, pulling her arms from Santana and crossing her chest with them instead. “I tell you I love you, and all you can do is cheer on your sexual magnetism?”

Santana’s giggles escalated into open cackling, but those wonderful tan arms reeled her in and squeezed her snugly, heavenly soft lips feathering kisses across her forehead. “You loved me enough to remember me, even if just pieces of me. I wasn’t sure what it was, since you always told me you were straight, so...but _now_...” Santana spoke, jubilation sprouting from each word, her sheer euphoria crackling from San’s body to hers in their embrace. “I never thought I had a chance. I never thought you’d forgive me enough to let yourself feel anything like that for me, and... _fuck_ , you _know_ I adore you, I always have.”

“You adore ten percent of me.” Rachel corrected gamely, with a grin, one Santana kissed away, quickly leaving her wanting more.

“I _cherish_ ten percent of you. The other ninety I just straight up love to death, even if you annoy the hell out of me with it. That’s, like, half the fucking fun, mi corazón.” Santana shot back with a brilliant smile, her eyes may as well being big pink sleepy hearts by the way her friend was gazing at her. “Now come on, we’re both sore, and we deserve to rest up. ‘Sides, it’s about time you cuddle up here and enjoy all this.”

Rachel couldn’t help but laugh at her sleepy best friend’s vanity. Still, Santana had a point. “I could hardly keep my heart in my chest when I saw you on the bed, earlier. Lilac does look rather charming on you.” Rachel noted with a soft smile, running a hand down Santana’s side, skimming down the woman’s silky slip, letting it rest on her hip. “I suppose we can delay the inevitable discussion on what to do about our respective employers. We’ve been apart far too long.”

“My thoughts exactly.” Santana hummed happily, holding Rachel’s hand at her hip while the other drew Rachel in for a kiss, the gloriously languid pace teasing her when San pulled away after a few seconds. “You know, that offer’s still on the table.”

Rachel’s tired mind struggled for a moment before coming to the only conclusion, her mocha eyes rolling at the woman’s hijinks. “Only if you kiss me all over, too. You did throw me off a second story overlook, baby.”

“Would you believe me if I told you it was the only way I knew to get you into my bed?” Santana asked, eyebrows jumping playfully, a playful smirk on her face.

“You’re ridiculous.” Rachel shot back with a teasing glare, which she immediately regretted once Santana’s puppy dog eyes and deadly pout came out. She’d never been able to say no to that face, and she probably never would. Rachel let out a heavy sigh and pulled Santana within an inch of a kiss. “But I love you.”

Those were the magic words, it seemed, breaking that pout back into a self-satisfied grin. “I love you, too, Rachel Berry.”

Later, when their bodies were healed enough, she was sure they’d have a lot of well-earned catching up to do. And they’d certainly have some planning ahead of them.

But for now, her best friend and love of her life had set her up for a sensual, romantic evening, what with the great food and rose petals and soft music and tantalizing lingerie. It was only fair she reward it exactly how Santana wanted it.

Rachel happily scooped Santana up in her arms and held her close, knowing the woman had always thirsted for affection, and she couldn’t imagine San going four years without what she’d wanted most. And she certainly couldn’t will herself to keep it from Santana when it was in her power to give; they’d been rough with each other these past weeks. Some softness seemed like the perfect way to end the first night of the rest of their lives.

Killing? Well, there was time enough for that tomorrow.

**Author's Note:**

> First off, I have to give credit to Punlich's posts on 'villain lady' on tumblr (142262400063/villain-lady-going-into-the-bathroom-let-me-slip) (141881305978/villain-lady-lets-fucking-fight-heroine-if-i).  
> I was thinking about how I wanted to handle this day, and the post about Villain Lady slipping into something more comfortable, and coming out in magitek armor was just too much. Loved Punlich declaring they were both trans women as well, so I kept true to that in writing Rachel and San in mind as trans women (there's a few halfway subtle references throughout).  
> Those posts, and (also from tumblr) romangodfrey's (30754424991/keep-your-friends-close-but-your-enemies-closer) post definitely influenced a bit of that alleyway scene, because it was just too extra, just like Santana in this.  
> Anywho, I had a lot of fun with this one. I hope you all enjoyed, and that you're having a good time with PW'16! Thanks for reading!


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